Lonely Melody
by Touchstone's Ranna
Summary: Wilson catches House singing one night.
1. Lonely Melody

A/N: The song that House sings is "My Immortal"byEvanescence. Also, this takes place during the time that Wilson is staying at House's place.

* * *

Hands moved slowly in the imitation of going across the keys of a piano.

The music floated across the room, coming from the stereo nestled securely in the bookcase.

Gregory House's eyes were closed as his fingers moved across the imaginary keys.

He opened his mouth as the singer began her sorrowful tune. His voice added to the mix. A smooth baritone to compliment the singer's soprano.

_I'm so tired of being here_

_Suppressed by all my childish fears_

_If you have to leave_

_I wish that you would just leave_

'_Cause your presence still lingers here_

_And it won't leave me alone_

_These wounds won't seem to heal_

_This pain is just too real_

_There's just too much that time cannot erase_

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_Why you screamed I'd fight away all of your tears_

_And I held your hand through all of these years_

_And you still-_

He felt someone's eyes gazing at him intently. Whether with annoyance or fondness House didn't know, and he frankly didn't care. Someone invaded his space, that was all he needed to know.

He ceased singing and opened his eyes, meeting the gaze of Wilson.

"I didn't know that you listened to Evanesance." The man said.

House shrugged, "I like some of their songs."

"I didn't know that you could sing." Wilson said, his tone odd to House's ears. It seemed to hold awe and disappointment laced together in a unique mixture that sounded almost child-like.

"Not something I tend to do in public." House said flatly, "People would think I was insane if I just suddenly broke into song, wouldn't they?"

A soft chuckle passed Wilson's lips.

"I can't believe that you would actually care whether people thought you were sane or not."

The younger man waited for a comment from the older one, but got none. Only the cool gaze of cerulean was his response.

"You seemed so peaceful as you were singing and yet thoroughly burdened as well…" Wilson commented softly.

"I like the song." House said vacantly.

"I can tell, this is the third time it's restarted."

Neither of the men spoke. Both listening intently to the music. House closed his eyes and Wilson could tell that he was fighting the urge to begin singing again, his soft lips parting slightly, over and over again.

"Was there a reason for your visit?" House asked, startling Wilson from his thoughts.

"I was just wondering if you were still here. It is two in the morning, you know."

"Mm." House muttered. He opened his eyes once again and glanced at the clock sitting on the desk. "Two twenty now."

"You should get some sleep, House." Wilson advised.

"And so should you." The blue eyed man returned.

Wilson's eyes studied House for a few moments. The man's body was relaxed, something that rarely occurred these days. The emotionless mask House had had on was slowly melting, being replaced by a look of yearning and need.

Wilson had never seen this side of House.

But oddly enough… it seemed right.

"Is there something wrong?" Wilson asked, walking into the office, noticing that the chorus had begun to play for what had to be the twentieth time. He stopped in front of the other man's desk, looking into those deep blue eyes that were as bright as a curious child's yet dim as a man who had seen too much pain in his life.

A sarcastic smirk crossed House's lips for a moment, "Isn't there always something wrong?"

Wilson blinked.

This was odd behaviour. Even for House.

"I'm so tired of being alone…"

It was sung in the same tune of the first line of the song. Softly and slightly alien as it mixed the original lyric.

"What?" Wilson asked.

A heavy sigh escaped House's lips.

"Never mind, Wilson. Go home. I will probably stay here tonight."

"No. I want to know what is wrong. You don't want to be alone? That doesn't sound like you, House."

A wry laugh escaped House's lips. "You really don't know me, Wilson."

Wilson felt his breath catch at the statement. He had always thought the he knew his friend fairly well. He knew his moods, his sarcastic attitude, his interests and those other little things that made House, House.

But of course, most of those things _were_ the little things…

"If I don't understand you, why don't you tell me?"

"Why don't I show you?"

And with that, House got up from his seat, standing in front of his desk. He leaned in towards Wilson, his right hand snaking out and grabbing Wilson's necktie, pulling the man close to him. House cupped Wilson's cheek with his other hand for a moment, gazing into surprised copper eyes before placing his lips upon Wilson's, kissing him tenderly.

Wilson could feel the heat rising in his face. He had no idea what was going on or why, but he went along, answering the kiss gently, tentatively, afraid to do something wrong that would end the pleasant sensation.

House pulled away and looked at his friend. His face was red, and his lips had more color to them. His copper eyes were slightly wide, obviously questioning what had just happened.

_I'm so tired of being alone._

House limped over to the stereo and lightly touched the eject button, the music stopping suddenly and being replaced by mechanical whirring and then silence.

He placed the c.d. on the top of the stereo, leaving it exposed and naked.

"It'll get damaged…" Wilson managed to say, finally finding his voice.

"It's just a copy. If it gets damaged, I can use the original to make a new one."

Wilson stared at the disc, small particles of dust were falling gracefully onto it already. Covering the surface…

"House."

Blue eyes fell upon copper.

"Yeah?"

Wilson silently went over to House. He moved forward and once again their lips connected, this time with more passion. Molding to one another's mouths, tongue's exploring, soft bites and nips.

Wilson's hands had found their way around House's back and clung to the material of his shirt. House's hands were placed on Wilson's hips, keeping him firmly in place, holding him close. Never wanting to let go.

When the need for air became too great, the two ceased kissing, but they still stood together in each other's arms.

"You don't have to be tired of being alone."

House didn't respond, but Wilson could feel the smile coming from the other man as he placed a kiss upon the younger doctor's head.


	2. Not the Price

Wilson leaned back in his chair.

_That song_…

It seemed to follow him everywhere these days. Whenever he walked into a room. Whenever he turned on the radio. He always heard that song… _My Immortal_… But never did he hear it in the singer's soprano. No. He always heard it in that baritone that enraptured him that night.

The chorus started up and Wilson felt his lips parting to sing with the imagined voice of Gregory House. There was so much emotion packed into that chorus…

"James, you still here?"

Wilson cracked an eye open and saw House leaning in his doorway.

Copper eyes blinked for a moment and then he turned off the radio that was sitting on his desk. He picked up his briefcase, opening it for a moment to make sure all of his papers were there, and then made his way to the coat rack.

"Yeah. I was just thinking."

"You're addicted to the song now, aren't you?" House said, an impish grin pulling at his mouth.

"No, I am not." Wilson said as he turned the lights out and shut the office door. "The song is stalking me. It won't leave me alone. Everywhere I go, it is playing."

"Hmm. Interesting thing, that."

Wilson turned around to look House in the eye. Those blue eyes were dancing madly and Wilson didn't like it. House's eyes only danced like that when they were up to something completely and disturbingly deviant.

"House, what did you do?"

"What? Moi? I have done nothing." House replied, trying to hide his grin as he began to limp down the hall.

"Oh? Then why do you look like the cat that caught the canary? The kid with his hand in the cookie jar? The-"

"Enough of the proverbial this and that!" House said, turning around swiftly. He looked Wilson in the eye for a moment and then let out a huff, "I just thought that you liked the song, that's all. Thought that you were reminiscing over our first kiss. One would think that it would be special for you. I thought it was." He added in a sniff and a hurt child expression for effect, his blue eyes looking wide and watery.

Wilson's eyebrows furrowed slightly before he let out a laugh. "Grow up, House."

"Aw, now that isn't any fun. All those taxes and having to abide by the rules."

"Yeah, right. And when have you done any of that?"

"My point exactly."

Wilson let out an exasperated sigh.

"Can we just go home? I just want to go to bed…"

"Being suggestive now?" House asked, raising an eyebrow and quirking it.

Wilson knew he was fighting a losing battle. "House. Just… just shut up and take me home."

The two stared at one another for a few more moments until the older man turned around once again and started for the parking garage.

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two during the drive home. Wilson moved to turn on the car radio, but House slapped his hand away from the knob.

"My car, my rules. And I say that oncologists don't get to play with the radio." House said, his usual sarcastic tone laced with mild anger.

Wilson pulled back and resumed watching the so called scenery zoom past the windows. Dirty, black and yellow snow was caked at the ends of the sidewalks, turning to slush. Such a contrast from when it had fallen just that morning. Once pure and white, it was now tainted…

The car stopped and House got out. Wilson quickly followed suit.

Once he had entered the apartment, Wilson noticed that something was off. Something that didn't feel right or quite sit well in his stomach…

"What's wrong, Jimmy? Expecting the song to just start up or something?" House asked as he entered the kitchen. He flicked on the lights and began to take things out of the fridge.

Wilson's eyes widened when he realized that it was actual food. Ready and prepared food that had not been made by him and eaten by House.

"Uh, House, did you fix that? Because, no offense, but I wouldn't even feed Steve McQueen your cooking." Wilson said, eyeing the contents of the containers warily.

"Oh, come now. Do you really think that I would stoop so low as to actually cook for myself? No, dear Jimmy, this is take out!" House said as he shoved a plate with chicken topped with mushrooms, cheese and bacon bits with fries on the side into the microwave and punched in a random time.

"That stuff is going to give you a heart attack, you know." Wilson said, watching from the kitchen doorway, his arms folded across his chest.

"Nope. That's yours, Jimmy. I have a salad." House smiled as he showed the oncologist said item. It looked somewhat wilted.

Wilson shook his head. "House, you have really lost it."

"I think that happened a long time ago…"

"House-"

"Do you want to eat at the table or in the living room? I hear that Fox is starting this new show about a team of doctors. Sounds interesting. Shall we scrutinize their pathetic attempts at sounding like real medical personnel?"

"I don't think so."

"The kitchen table it is then." House said, moving towards the microwave as it beeped, signaling that the food inside was ready to be eaten. He took the plate out and then placed it on the table. "Soup's on."

Wilson shook his head once again but said nothing as he took his seat next to House.

"Could I have a fry?" House asked about five minutes into the meal, "Or should I say what is left of one?"

Wilson blinked at his plate. He had cut everything that was on his plate into very small pieces, much like how a mother would cut up her child's steak so that it could fit in the child's mouth.

"Sure, knock yourself out." Wilson replied, giving the entire plate to House. He just didn't feel all that hungry.

He got up and wandered into the living room. He turned on the television for a moment before turning it off. The new show's medical team was dealing with a guy with an infarction. Interesting how ironic life was sometimes… Or simply had really bad taste.

Wilson wandered over to the stereo and he turned on the radio. He heard the end of one song, a beat that was a sort of mix between punk, rock and guitar solos. The DJ then came on and began to introduce the next song.

"Now, this song is dedicated to J.W. from G.H. Now, time for _My Immortal_."

The song began and Wilson listened for a few moments before the initials sank in.

"House?"

He went back into the kitchen and looked at House curiously.

"What?" House asked, digging at the wreck that Wilson had made out of his fries.

"The song, you idiot. They said that it is dedicated to a J.W. from a G.H.?"

"Coincidence." House said, "Mere coincidence."

"Uh-huh…" Wilson said and returned to the other room, just in time to hear the song end.

"And now for a commercial break. We'll be giving you more great music after these quick messages."

Wilson sat on the couch for a moment until he heard a quiet humming coming from the kitchen. There was something about that humming that felt so comforting and ethereal. Like it came from an angel that suddenly decided that a lonely man needed consoling. But when Wilson looked into the kitchen, it was no angel. No… It was simply House, humming as he shoveled the fries into a little mountain, then taking leaves of lettuce from his salad and placing them around the fries, as if they were moats.

"You really are a piece of work…" Wilson muttered as he got up and went back into the kitchen.

He leaned forward so that his and House's noses were only an inch apart.

"House." Wilson said softly.

The blue-eyed man looked up, his nose brushing with Wilson's and stared into those copper eyes opposite him.

"Yes?"

Wilson leaned forward, closing the gap between them and kissed House's lips gently, tenderly. He pulled back and then gazed upon House with a look of affection.

"Thank you, Greg."

A smile tugged at House's lips as he grabbed Wilson by the tie and pulled him down for another kiss. Taken by surprise, Wilson fell forward, his hands landing in the mess of fries and lettuce, but he didn't care. House's teeth were biting lightly at Wilson's bottom lip, seeking entrance. Once granted, House's tongue roamed around, darting over every surface of Wilson's mouth, memorizing it, mapping it out for future explorations.

Finally the two pulled away, Wilson laying on the table and House sitting at his place, an amused smirk playing across his lips.

"I guess paying off all of the music stations really worked."

Wilson opened his mouth as he was about to say something, but then decided it was better not to. How exactly he paid off the stations, Wilson never really wanted to know.

Hell, it was the thought that counts, not the price, right?


End file.
